


A Few Days More

by Evaldrynn



Series: In Her Loving Memory [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fǫruneyti Alternate Timeline, Fǫruneyti Alternate Universe, Part Two
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-23
Updated: 2017-09-23
Packaged: 2019-01-04 13:55:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12170214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evaldrynn/pseuds/Evaldrynn
Summary: He had not expected her to have such an impact on him. Was it something about her that made his heart react so strongly, or was he merely touch-starved and craving acceptation?A Fǫruneyti fic yet in an Alternate Universe/Timeline, in which many, many things have happened differently. The character cast is the same, the magic system is the same, but oh so many things have changed.Please read Fǫruneyti first!





	A Few Days More

**Author's Note:**

> Part II 
> 
> I'm sorry.

It was the sound of her laughter that made him turn his head. 

It was the sight of her smile that made him forget his previous conversation.

And it was the moment her eyes met his that he forgot how to breathe. 

She quickly averted her gaze and her smile dimmed, faded to one that seemed strained, fake, before she turned her face back to the woman walking beside her and passed him without even another glance from the corner of her eyes. 

He was intrigued. Was it fear that had made her genuine expression fall ever so slightly? Was she new here and had she only just heard about his reputation, or did she still believe that he fucked innocent maids just for the fun of traumatising them? Was she afraid he would do that to her? His heart stung more than he liked to admit. He did not care about his reputation – if anything, it kept all idiots away from him and gave him lots of leverage whenever he needed to intimidate someone. Let them think he was dangerous. It didn't matter whether he was or had been evil; he did not have the energy to correct them - and besides, it was not like they truly needed correction. 

He watched her until they turned the corner and disappeared out of sight before Thor's voice made him shift his gaze back to his brother. 

“Whatever is on your mind, I suggest you forget it. There are more important things at hand than your love of mischief, Loki; the wedding-”

“Isn't in another four months; there is still plenty of time to have some fun.” 

“Your idea of 'fun' is rather worrying. Father has been keeping a close eye on you, you know. Perhaps you should lay low until we leave for Yllgard.” 

But his words fell on deaf ears as Loki was already off to follow the two women, leaving the golden-haired prince behind to sigh to himself. 

 

-

 

He couldn't find her again. He had walked the halls, had followed the faint scent of flowers until it had faded, had strained his ears to pick up on her voice or laughter. Nothing. Frustration began to boil within him, began to turn his determined expression to one that scared all the palace dwellers away. He hadn't had a good laugh in what felt like years; and even though the headache had faded he still felt inexplicably horrible, with his heart heavy in his chest and his thoughts wandering to empty planes inside his mind. He felt like his brain was slowly deteriorating even though there was nothing wrong with him. 

So he needed this, needed the feeling he got in anticipation of messing with her, needed the high from feeling good once more. Just a bit of self-indulgence. Just a bit of relief. 

Then he noticed his feet had wandered while he had been thinking, and he frowned when he recognised the location to which they had brought him. 

The Healer's Wing?

He never came here. While in the safety of the Asgardian palace he never acquired wounds that he could not heal himself, and those magic-less herbalists and self-proclaimed doctors were more of a nuisance than truly helpful. Bothersome, how they worried so deeply when one spotted the tiniest amount of blood on him – and all fake worry, of course. None of them could care less whether he would live or die. Probably even preferred the latter. 

So then why was he here?

He kept an air of nonchalant confidence as he strode in, determined to find out. As soon as he swung open one of the doors with his magic – no guards in sight, so no important people in the infirmary, he concluded – a man came rushing towards him, bowing deeply when he had found the polite distance. 

“Prince Loki.” A formal greeting, as required. But then the man hesitated. “Is... Is something wrong, your Majesty? I do not see any wounds that would require our help-” 

The raven-haired prince shot the man a warning glance so sharp he immediately silenced himself. Loki kept his voice icy cold as he responded – no less a warning. “I do not need to provide you with the reasons I may have for coming here, now, do I?” 

The stunned man stuttered back to life. “N-n-o, of course not, your-” 

“Then leave me be and go back to what you are here for.” 

“Y-yes sir.” The man quickly retreated through a door in the back, walking so fast he nearly stumbled with every step he took. 

And then he was alone. 

Loki scanned the antechamber-like room. It was not large enough to feel clinical, yet not small enough to be cramped should more of the wounded or sick be brought in. Left, two floor-to-ceiling windows and between them one double door in the same paned glass fashion, which led to the herbal gardens; right, four doors that led to four separate infirmary halls. In the right-middle of the room four examination tables, in the left-middle two chaises longues, basked in the golden light from outside. In the back, against the wall, cabinets and wooden storage units filled with jars, pots, bottles and boxes; interrupted by the occasional workspace or desk, sometimes a bookcase filled to the brim with floral encyclopedia and scientific works on innumerable ailments. And even though he had not been here often, it felt familiar. 

He set another step into the room, the door softly falling shut behind him. He recognised that faint aroma of flowers and greenery and knew he was in the right place, yet still his heart leaped in something akin to relief when her sweet laughter found its way to his ears once more. 

He moved to the open door, glancing through the glass before stepping outside. There she stood, together with the other woman that had walked at her side, both no longer wearing their dresses but high-waisted trousers and short-sleeve blouses. It was the brown-eyed brunette who noticed him first and fell silent; his target still oblivious. 

He stalked closer to her while the other watched in frozen terror, her gaze switching frantically between the two of them as her throat struggled to get out the warning still stuck in her lungs. 

But he was quicker. 

“A garden full of blooming flowers, yet none quite as beautiful as you, my lady.” 

He smirked at the way her body tensed, yet she did not jump around in shock and fear like he had expected. Instead she slowly, almost casually, put the freshly-picked berries in the basket hanging from her arm and turned to him, her eyes not meeting his until she had curtsied. 

“I could say the same about you, prince Loki.” 

This caught him off-guard.  
His heart jumped and tugged for a fraction of a second, sped up just the tiniest bit before he got it back under control. Did she think of him of handsome? But then her fear of him, of his reputation... Could he have come to the wrong conclusion? He noticed the tiniest glint of playfulness in her eyes, the corners of her lips curling up ever so slightly. She was most definitely not afraid of him. 

“A prince cannot be without his own aesthetic value, of course.” 

Her smile widened a bit further. 

“I am certain that is not your only value.” 

Once more he was taken aback by her swift response. Hadn't his goal been to fluster her? Pester her to see her reactions, perhaps? Yet now, when he had twice been bested in wit and words, he could not help but feel the urge to continue down this path. 

He tilted his head a bit while he returned her gaze with a toothy grin. “Oh? Enlighten me; what values do you assume I possess?” 

He noticed, at the same time when she did, how the other healer clenched her fist around her basket and shot Loki a warning glance, but she quickly spoke up before either he or her friend had the opportunity to open their mouths. 

“Dagny, can you start working on that medicine I told you about this morning?” But her gold-speckled eyes conveyed more than her words let on, a soundless conversation between two women who no doubt knew each other quite well. 

And Dagny nodded. “All right.” Another heartbeat of silent conversing before she left the garden and disappeared from sight. 

She then turned to him again, studying his eyes, his face, as if she was looking for something. “Why are you here?”

“Apparently everyone feels the need to question my motives. Does it matter?” 

Some kind of relief settled between the blue and gold. “I suppose not. Though, as my profession is one that is linked to health and wellbeing, I wondered whether I could be of any help.” 

“I am perfectly healthy, no need to worry.” 

She bit her lip as if to hold back the words she had almost spoken, then turned back to the bush to her side and continued taking the clusters of berries from their branches; neatly laying them in the woven basket. It looked hand-made. 

“Then I must say I am at a loss as to what you could wish from me.” 

He walked closer to her, his heart clenching when the glance she cast up at him was suddenly filled with anxiety and apprehension – yet only for a fraction of a second, before she hid it behind a kind smile again. He added a handful of the black orbs to the ones she had already gathered. 

“Well, for one, I would love to hear about these 'other values' you are so certain for me to have.” His voice was much softer and warmer than he had wanted it to be, lacking the smugness or complacent tone that would have turned his words into a tease. Instead, he sounded honestly interested – a grave mistake. 

Or... not? 

When her eyes and smile grew soft and genuine, a hint of sympathy, a hint of what could possibly be _fondness_ \- he could not even slightly regret slipping up. Warmth bloomed inside his chest in a way that surprised him. Was he falling for her? 

“I have heard your intelligence and proficiency in the art of magic are known across the realms.” Her smile wavered so slightly it could have been a trick of the light. “I am sure there are many more, but I have to admit I do not know you well enough to list those which are left with certainty.” 

“No certainty is needed. Please, let me hear what you think of me, my lady.” He had been successful in his attempt to slip the boastfulness back into his voice.

But even though she averted her gaze he caught the melancholy turning the blue a shade colder, the gold more dull, and when she resumed her task her movements seemed automated, as if her mind was already occupied with something else. 

“Contrary to popular belief, I do not think you are a monster.” 

His heart stopped for a second; his vocal chords needing a moment to find the will to speak again. “And what makes you say that?” He was almost able to make it sound mocking. Almost. 

“The most obvious reasons? You have not attacked me or insulted me; on the contrary, the first thing you said to me was a compliment. Whether it was heartfelt or not does not matter. What matters, is that there are so many ways you could have turned this conversation in any direction you wanted, could have hurt me with words and actions, and could have used this situation – us, being alone in a garden in one of the most quiet parts of the entire palace – to do unspeakable things to me. And yet here you stand, helping me pick berries like a common worker such as me while asking about my opinion on you.” 

He was not as much stunned into silence as dumbstruck by surprise and, perhaps, confusion, but the gentle brush of her fingers over his when she took the cluster from his hand pulled him back to himself. Her touch had made his soul _flutter_ , out of all things. He made sure to hide it behind a smirk. 

“And the less obvious reasons?” 

She chuckled softly, but there was an even deeper sadness to her voice when she answered. “Well, my parents taught me not too judge too fast, and so when I heard of your reputation I decided I would see for myself; I would not let it keep me from coming here and pursuing a career of my choosing.” 

He already had so many questions. Where had she come from? Had she been a healer there, too? Or an apprentice? When had she arrived? Where were her parents? Were they at the palace? He wanted to know everything about her. She was like a spark of light in the darkness, someone who had set other people's prejudices aside to form an opinion of her own; a firefly in the black of the night, a star in the vastness of the void. He wanted to keep her close, bask in her light for a bit longer – no, much longer. Was he truly that desperate for acceptation? 

He picked a question at random. “Are your parents healers too?” 

And he had picked the wrong one.  
After she parted her lips to speak, closed them again, and smiled in the most heartshattering way, the sadness he had seen before began overflowing. She focused back on the branches with her face turned just far enough away from him to hide it, but her hand wiping over her cheek as well as the tears that she missed betrayed her. 

His eyes were wide, his heart contracting violently. What was he to do? He wanted to reach out, to gently pull her to his chest and to hold her, to comfort her, to kiss her tears away, but those urges surprised him so that he stood as if nailed to the ground.

“I-I'm sorry, it's just-” He could hear the difficulty with which she forced out the words, could hear the agony in the wavering of her tear-filled voice. “The loss is s-still-” Her shoulders shook and she was unable to hold back the choking sound that came with it. Her basket almost tipped over as she pressed her hand to the centre of her chest – and, strangely enough, that was the thing that set him into motion. 

He quickly reached out and took hold of it, before gently sliding it off her arm when she loosened her grip on herself and hanging it on one of the thin, wooden structures that allowed a vine-like plant to reach upwards towards the sky. 

“My apologies, I... I was not aware.” 

But his words only elicited another heavy shock of her shoulders and a soft cry that sounded so, so deeply pained that he felt his own throat clench shut. 

So he did the only thing he could find the courage to do: he opened his arms ever so slightly, stretched them out just a bit to make clear it was an invitation. 

And, to his surprise, she took it. 

She wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in the dark green of his tunic, held him with such desperation that he could only hold her even tighter.  
Along with the natural perfume of the flowers a different smell reached him and made him fill his lungs, made him keep it there as if he could cherish it, could make it a part of himself. Why did she have such great impact on him? Why did her tears hurt him so much? Why did her arms around his body feel like something he had been craving for a long time? 

All these questions ran rampant inside his head while he held her for what felt like an hour, until she calmed down enough for her broken words to find their way out.

“I-I miss them s-s-so much-” 

Her tears began to seep through the fabric, making it stick slightly to his chest. 

“I m-miss _you_ -” 

He froze. 

 

What?-

**Author's Note:**

> I think you're beginning to see what I'm getting at, aren't you?  
> And, once again, I am so, so sorry. 
> 
>    
> Hit me up on my blogs!  
> http://feelingwonderfultoday.tumblr.com/  
> http://foruneyti.tumblr.com/


End file.
